Five times they dressed up
by overdosingonyou
Summary: ...and one time it led to sex. Sam/Kurt.


Sam/Kurt, romance, smut.

**Five times they dressed up (& one time it led to sex)**

**by overdosingonyou**

**1)**

Sam tries to be inconspicuous, but he can't help but stare a little bit as Kurt, with his eyes on his own reflection in the mirror, carefully smooths his hair back and puts some sort of net over it to keep it in place. Next is the straggly blond wig which makes him look almost like a girl, and finally, that bald cap over it all. He doesn't have any make-up or anything on yet, but that almost makes it _weirder_ because it looks like _Kurt_ and it looks like Kurt actually _is_ mostly bald.

"It's not polite to stare," Kurt says, and it makes Sam blink as he is brought out of his thoughts.

"Isn't that _hot_?" Sam blurts out, only to catch himself when Kurt raises an eyebrow questioningly. "The wig and everything, I mean. That's like, three layers. On your head."

Kurt just looks at him a few seconds, enough to make Sam want to shift position because those gold shorts really are kind of revealing, man. Not that he has _anything_ to feel ashamed of, but, still.

"I guess," Kurt says then, sounding somewhat bemused. "That my costume is somewhat warmer than yours."

Sam scratches his head. "Good point." He pauses, not certain how to continue, but Kurt keeps looking at him like he's expecting something more. It is pretty disconcerting.

After a few moments, Kurt breaks the eye-contact. He begins to collect his comb, a few bottles of hair product and stuff, putting them into his shoulder bag. On the way out, his elbow very nearly brushes over Sam's torso, but it is in all certainty an accident.

"Uh, see you at rehearsal!" Sam says after the retreating boy, and he gets a backwards wave as reply

**2) **

When Sam enters the choir room Kurt is already in his chair, fiddling with something on his iPhone. Quinn and Mercedes are leaning over his shoulder, snickering madly.

Normally, that's like a warning for Sam to back off, but he's admittedly pretty curious. He settles in the chair next to Kurt's and only hesitates for a few seconds before putting a hand on Kurt's knee. Kurt shoots him a quick glance and a smile, his cheeks flushing just a tiny bit. He tilts his phone to allow Sam a look. "We're reminiscing about our performances from last year."

Sam leans in to look, and pauses. It's a picture of the guys all dressed up like Kiss, complete with make-up and everything. "Wow. You guys really went all out?"

"They looked so adorable," Quinn says, and then she and Mercedes look at each other and start to cackle again in that intimidating way girls seem to do sometimes when they're together. Kurt grins in their direction, but thankfully doesn't join them.

Sam leans in closer to whisper under the noise the girls are making. "I don't see you in that pic." He pauses. "I think?"

Because it's actually pretty hard to tell.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Can you imagine me trying to pull off Gene Simmons? I did Gaga with the girls."

When Sam thinks of Lady Gaga, he automatically thinks of that bubble dress. He tries to will the image away and waits for Kurt to flip through the pictures until he finds the right one.

The girls and Kurt all look pretty weird, but Sam doesn't think he really ought to say that. "Those are some shoes," he offers instead.

"Hurt like a bitch," Kurt says flippantly, and they continue to look at pictures of past performances until Mr. Shue finally makes it to the choir room to start the meeting.

**3)**

Sam had known that Kurt had lost a bet or something to Quinn or Mercedes but he hadn't really thought much about it.

Sure, Kurt had grumbled about it, but whenever it had come up Sam had been either engrossed in some epic battle on Final Fantasy VII (which is actually a pretty awesome game once Kurt had convinced him to actually read the text) or he's kind of distracted by how soft and red Kurt's lips are and how oddly adorable he looks when he's frowning over something. And Sam isn't really used to thinking that another guy is adorable, so that will distract him further and he'll find himself sort of just _staring_ at the way Kurt's lips move and only feel a slight twinge of guilt over not listening.

So, Sam is really not prepared for the sight when he shuffles down the stairs to Kurt's room to pick him up on the way to the Halloween party.

In fact, his mind sort of does a 180 degree turn, freezes and says 'glip' like it always seems to do in comics. As a result, he forgets that there are still a few steps to go and he barely avoids an embarrassing face-plant.

Kurt looks wholly unimpressed.

"You own a corset?" is the first thing that escapes Sam's mouth, which apparently isn't the best thing to say because Kurt's frown, if it is even possible, seems to deepen.

"It's the most feminine thing I own," Kurt says, pulling the black leather further up on his chest, sort of wiggling it the way Sam has seen girls do with strapless dresses and tops. "Help me tighten this?"

"Besides the skirt, you mean?" Sam says before he can stop himself, then busies himself with being confused over the straps the Kurt hands him and are apparently for tightening the corset.

"It's a kilt," Kurt sniffs, smoothing out the fabric of the black skirt-kilt-thing. It's kind of loose, doesn't seem to hug Kurt's ass like most of his pants do (Sam is standing behind him, it's not like he can keep from checking, right?) but there _is_ something about it that sends a rush of heat to the lower pit of Sam's stomach. He swallows.

"Well, it looks good." He tightens the straps hesitantly, unsure of how much he should really pull. His brain flashes back to _that_ scene in Pirates of the Caribbean and he thinks he probably shouldn't overdo it.

Kurt _does_ look good. Kind of like a tomboyish girl with a leather fetish. Which is kind of confusing because Sam has _just_ established that he kind of prefers guys over girls and it's like everyone are out to mess with his brain nowadays. "I mean, kind of weird, but good."

He hears Kurt sigh as he ties the straps off in what he hopes is a decent way.

When he is done, Kurt turns around to face him and Sam feels oddly under-dressed in his cowboy hat and brown leather west (at least they sort of match with the leather, right?)

Kurt still looks somewhat annoyed, but the corners of his mouth are starting to pull upwards. He reaches out with a hand to tug at Sam's cowboy vest lightly, and Sam swallows and tries to will the heat away from his nether regions. "Help me sneak past my dad? There's no way he'll let me out like this."

In the end, Sam has to engage in strained football conversation with Burt while Kurt walks past and shouts a hurried goodbye over his shoulder.

It's awkward, but Sam thinks they do make a good team.

**4)**

Kurt looks surprisingly good as a hobbit. He has ditched the ears and feet, naturally, but the ankle long pants and waistcoat are in character enough So maybe he looks like an unnaturally modern, stylish hobbit, but Sam supposes it is better than nothing.

He holds his arms up and spins around once. "Do I pass?" he asks, just a hint of impatience-or is is irritation?-in his voice.

It is like some weird backwards universe, Kurt asking Sam about _his_ opinion of clothes.

Sam straightens his-_Bard's_-bow hanging over his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, you look good."

Over Kurt's shoulder, Sam catches sight of Burt in the living room, watching them with what looks like only somewhat concealed amusement. "We'll be home by midnight," Sam offers to the man, mostly because it feels like he should say _something_ to him.

Honestly, they would have been home a lot earlier if Kurt hadn't insisted that they watch the premiere of "The Hobbit" in Columbus, where they "probably _hopefully_ won't be the only ones dressing up and regarded as freaks". But Sam had been the one wanting to dress up in the first place, and he _does_ know how to compromise.

Burt salutes him with a raised hand and a grin. "Have fun."

**5)**

Of the two of them, Kurt has definitely got the nicer car, so in the end he is the one that picks Sam up on their way to their junior prom.

Sam's parents are still pretty bemused at the thought of Sam dating another guy, but they don't dislike Kurt or anything. Like the typical embarrassing parents they are they force them to pose for what feels like hundreds of pictures, in front of the apple tree in the back yard, in front of the car, at the front door...the list goes on and on.

Kurt is a pretty good sport about it, though. In fact, Sam sort of suspects that he likes it, smiling and posing like a professional model or something, while Sam just stands there, fiddling with his hands and wishing he could keep them in his pockets. Sadly, both his mom and Kurt had told him off when he had tried.

Kurt looks pretty awesome, of course. It's almost weird to see him wearing something as uniform as a suit but he pulls it off pretty damn well, all black and white, clean and composed, his hair carefully slicked back with what is probably at least a gallon of organic hair mousse.

Kurt catches him staring, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

Sam shrugs, and his hands slip into his pockets despite himself. "Nothing." He pauses. "You look good."

Kurt slips an arm around Sam's, smiling. "You too."

Later, Sam's little sister will mention the lack of _color_ in his prom photos, but Sam personally thinks that they turned out pretty great.

**+1)**

The nights are getting cooler. Sam hadn't really noticed during the game, but now he realizes that his thin football uniform is doing very little to help him keep his body heat. He should probably head off to the showers, but he's still sort of high on success and it's like the rapidly emptying field gives him enough space to feel good. If the lightning had been only somewhat less bright, he could probably have been able to make out stars when he looked at the sky.

"You won't find Venus in that direction," a wry voice says from behind him.

Sam turns around.

Kurt's hair is sort of a mess (not really, but compared to its usual styled appearance it is) and he still seems somewhat flushed from the routine cheerleading work he had done earlier. During their game performances-that coach Sylvester seems to view as a necessary evil-he is usually degraded to do what the other guys do: supporting the girls as they jump and spin and wave their asses at the crowd. Kurt complains about it sometimes, especially about how he _never_ gets to hold the pom-poms.

A mental image of Kurt in that cheerios skirt, waving around pom-poms, makes Sam grin as much as it sort of makes him want to check his chin for drool. It's not like Kurt doesn't totally pull of the male uniform, after all, although Kurt calls the design boring. The t-shirt shows off Kurt's frame nicely, and the fabric of those pants stretch tightly over his ass and crotch.

"Nah, just wanted some time to relax," he says, as if that really makes any sense.

Kurt steps up next to him, hovering hand over Sam's shoulder before starting to smooth out wrinkles in the his football shirt although Sam doesn't know why he even bothers. But that is pretty typically Kurt. He always goes for the clothes first, as if the thought of touching without any practical reason is still a bit scary. "Good game."

"Yeah. Good, uh, cheering too."

Kurt half-smiles at him, kind of indulgently but still not, and Sam takes that as permission to lean down and kiss him. Kurt almost jumps a bit against his lips, as if not expecting the move. From the corner of Sam's eyes he can see the hand that had Kurt had previously settled on his shoulder hovering in the air hesitantly for a few moments before re-settling.

Kurt smells like sweat mixed with the remaining hints of some sweet-smelling deodorant. For some reason the smells goes straight to Sam's dick. Like, he feels himself grow hard embarrassingly quickly and he pulls away slightly, but Kurt seems to have already noticed. He raises one eyebrow, but leans in for another kiss, resting his hand on the back of Sam's neck. And really, who is Sam to complain, then?

After a few more minutes of kissing, his brain is a muddled mess from teasing and tingling pleasures and Kurt's mouth on his own. He only moves away when everything becomes a bit _too_overwhelming, leaning down to rest his head against the nape of Kurt's neck, just inhaling the scent that is to typically Kurt and typically _guy_. He feels Kurt stiffen.

"What are you doing?" Kurt hisses, voice low as if that will somehow stop people from seeing them.

"You smell good." Sam raises his head again and accidentally-on-purpose lets his hand sneak lower, from Kurt's back to his ass.

Kurt laughs lowly, but it's one of those high-pitched, not quite genuine laughs that Kurt does when he's uncomfortable about something. "Right. We should probably shower, eh?"

Which is like the worst idea ever, but Sam isn't really sure how to say that.

Instead, he leans in to kiss Kurt again, using that hand on his ass to pull him closer to Sam's body. He is pleased when Kurt doesn't pull away, instead allowing Sam to press their bodies together. And hey, look at that, Kurt is getting turned-on as well.

A thought enters Sam's mind. It's stupid, but intriguing. He glances around them, but the bleachers seem to have emptied completely. Someone is probably going to come along shortly to start cleaning up, but it's not like he and Kurt are going to take all night or anything.

He slips his hand to play with the waistband of Kurt's pants questioningly. When no complaint is raised, he pushes them down, some weird part of his mind marveling at how _easy_ it is to get these pants off, compared to most of Kurt's wardrobe. He just has to pull downwards; he can even take Kurt's underwear with him as he does. Kurt's dick sort of bobs upwards as it is freed.

Kurt hisses in surprise and tries to move away slightly, but the pants around his thighs restrict his movements. He reaches down with one hand to pull them up, red spots appearing on his cheeks. "Are you _mad_? Anyone can come along!"

"It'll be fast," Sam says, and Kurt _snorts_ at that, like it's an insult, but when Sam kneels before him, doesn't try to move away.

"If we get caught _you'll_ be paying my therapy bills."

Sam glances around again, just to make sure, until Kurt makes this annoyed, impatient sound that takes Sam's focus right back to the straining cock in front of him.

Kurt's hands automatically grab hold of Sam's hair when Sam leans forward, taking the base of Kurt's dick with his hands, fondling his balls for a moment before taking the head of his cock in his mouth.

Kurt lets out a groan, his hands tightening in Sam's hair, when Sam takes more and more of his length into his mouth; he can't manage _all_ of it, but he does the best he can. The taste is kind of tangy, more than usual now, and Sam finds that he kinds of enjoys it.

It only takes a few minutes before Kurt comes, his hands in Sam's hair gripping tighter as a warning and Sam pulls away, using his hand to get Kurt off during the final moments of the orgasm as Kurt stars to convulse and he spurts his come onto the cement base of the bleachers. Then, Kurt lets out a shuddering breath and Sam knows that he is done.

He stands up slowly, more aware than ever of his own hard-on still caught in his now uncomfortably tight football shorts. Kurt pulls his pants up with one hand and leans forward to rest his head against Sam's chest, as if to recover. Because yeah, Sam's blowjobs really are that amazing.

Kurt moves away seconds later, nose scrunched up. "You really need a shower."

Sam doesn't really have the brain capacity to reply properly, because Kurt is moving _away_ from his body, which sort of sucks right now. "Come on, man."

"Whatever unhygienic fetish you seem to have, I definitely don't share it." The sharpness of his tone is somewhat dulled by the fact that Kurt is pushing Sam's shorts down with one hand, starting to fondle his dick with the other. He is soon pumping up and down and it's not the smoothest handjob Sam has ever received, dry palm and everything, but at the moment he doesn't _care_ because Kurt's hand is warm and offers _just_ the right pressure...

His brain whites out for a few seconds as he comes, Kurt's hand guiding him through his orgasm until he can somewhat think again.

Kurt helps him pull his pants up, slapping his ass lightly as he does. It makes Sam blink as he is brought back into present time. His mind is suddenly weirdly clear and the crisp night air feels refreshing in his lungs.

"Come on, cowboy," Kurt says. He looks cheerful, like he often does after coming. Or making Sam come. Sex really does loosen the guy up. "Let's hit the showers."

Sam follows him towards the locker rooms.


End file.
